What had Brewis Charvill to say to that, Gerald?’ ‘He had nothing to say to it. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. Your face has flitted out of my watch-fire, and then I have been a haunted man. That is why I came to London. I’m not Gerald, remember. ‘Though he didn’t mean it.
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